Skies are brilliant marble forces, 
swaying devotional gazes 
southward to acute exceptions 
of their ponderous ways.

Temples of mercuried love 
bury blue eyed glints 
of bashful powders 
upon the sultan's pillow,

and dahlias 
for the grassen shadows 
dream boldly through the 
finely painted starlight ...  


Icon Poet Website    

Human/machine poetry collaboration.

  If you are fascinated by randomness, amused by odd word 
  combinations and just know you have the creative genius 
  to help guide the process along, then you might want to 
  check out the above link which will take you to a site  
  containing poetry generating software.  All the software 
  on that site was written by Steve Tiffany.  He also created 
  and maintains the website.  

  He wrote his original Amiga version of the software in the late 
  1980's.  In 2000 Steve created an online version of Icon Poet, 
  featured on National Public Radio's "All Things Considered" 
  and on Yahoo.  He now has a downloadable version available
  for Windows users in demo and purchasable form.

  I've since quit offering my own Windows poetry machine (Winpoet), 
  which I created a few years ago in an attempt to satisfy those 
  looking for a downloadable Windows version of Icon Poet.  Winpoet 
  was a fair simulation of Icon Poet, but never had quite the same
  ease of use.  They are not affiliated with each other.

  The following poems were written using Winpoet, but could have
  just as easily been written with Icon Poet.  Whether you find 
  enjoyment in creating light hearted poetry or inspirational
  poetry, it's a bit of fun.  Check out what others have written
  by clicking on the above Icon Poetry button.



The Master has christened Winpoet by spontaneously
hammering out the following poem, using Winpoet:

 Galileo draws the curtains after 
 searching through the center                                      
 knowing only chilly laughter, 
 gracefully the rough dissenter
 stays beside the empty pools 
 and strolls past the convention
 of conventionally brilliant fools
 who write off his invention.

                  - Steve Tiffany, author of Icon Poet


--------------------------------------------------------------
More from Winpoet:


Mention alien engines to a buoyant woman,
and warm dollars divide the chaos
in the balcony
where blind futures sit and sleep,
hiding wet and comical truths
from carefree singers of the pink fields.


Where forests bury green adventures
beneath lovers buttery heads,
amorous monsters chase soupy women
across imaginary crumpled beds.
For The Muses tossed a salad
beyond wild wheaten faces,
hanging leafy woodsmans tobacco
above whitened willow places.


Dapper ghosts of jaded champagne faces                            
chased golden amorous pharoahs into doom                          
as secret singers of ivory graces                            
dreamt of languorous white infinities                             
in my room.                                                       


--------------------------------------------


Canvas shoes and leafy beds,                                      
clover milk and strawy breads,                                    
float across the woolly sky,                                      
earth and clay and dewy eye.


---------------------------------------------------------


Sullen sailors hang their ropes                                   
upon the silent seas                                              
where balmy hearts and fragile hopes                              
implore the tattered breeze                                       
to scatter deckhands through the haze
of misty journeys end
where churning oceans bend the gaze
that dying sailors send.


--------------------------------------


Cherry dogs beyond the river                                  
gather paper cups                                                 
to dream indeed                                                  
and wait for sunset's                                             
faded silver pups.


----------------------------------


Rugged boys with chilly fingers                                   
charge across the swamp,                                          
carnal cops molesting singers                                     
dig and twist and romp.   


----------------------------------


Beautiful woodsmen hide their heads,                              
shivering timidly in the mist.                                    
Counterfeit girls alert the feds,                                 
elusive hermits join the list.                                     


----------------------------------------------


Random beauty caught the dancer
over by the bashful wood,
youthful in its golden answer
to anticipated good
chance encounters with romance.  Her
candled heart did what it could
to catch her shy and fellow prancer.
Thinking not, it understood.


-----------------------------------------------


Under painful evil moon                                           
scary robots stroll at noon.  
Blackened watchmen gather bugs,                                  
acrid broken landscape shrugs.                                   

Leaden sullen witches stroll                                      
between the silent lands                                          
where scientific ghosts extoll                                    
the anguish in the sands.  


------------------------------------------


Saucy dancers watch and dream                                     
as regal leisures kindly pass.                                    
Silver girls think sleepy cream                                   
touches strange magnetic glass.                                  


-------------------------------------------------


Beastly alliances gather blood,
suddenly charging steamy fools. 
Treacherous madmen bomb the mud,
hurriedly calling moral rules. 


--------------------------------------------------


Were robots rich in forested glow,                                
or lawyers grand for garden weddings,                             
could common doctors likewise throw                               
bashful hands across our beddings?   


----------------------------------------


Milky models love the sound
of modern ducks in stoney town. 
Chalky riders gather round 
beery cats in evening gowns.


---------------------------------------------


Schooled in the dubious art of the weather,
professional clowns imagine predictions
of cloudy dim visions producers untether
on markets obsessed with ratings addictions.

For masters of media sell oily preachers
to gluey eyed keepers of broadcasts' estate
and sugar free widows craving a feature
devoted to dewy eyed anchormens' fate.


---------------------------------------


Lacy kittens, reckless mice,
love the clever curse,
throwing cheese, throwing rice
at each others hearse.


----------------------------------------


Opening advice to a faded professor:
Sell your conventional stock.
Fire your broker, do not bless her,
expect a familiar knock -

It's the fellows in the empty halls
bellowing for your soul.
They've canceled all your monied calls
for an educator's role. 


----------------------------------------


Ichabod Crane left bread and marbled
stone between the bed and garbled
quilts of keepers of the country
inn where ashen woodsmen's one tree
still left standing earned its glory
lasting out this wacky story.


-------------------------------------


Ichabod Crane danced brightly
while bats and wolves rode back
to the strawy swamps uprightly
digging and dreaming in his sack.

Harvest! Sunset! Ichabod Crane!
Stone and mortar look about same!
Treacherous ghosts beckoning pain!
Ashen hermits shiver in the rain! 


-------------------------------------


Monkeys from the cherry valley
follow faded trails
into lowlands final tally
where puppies ring the golden bells.


---------------------------------------


Where shadow's hand would close our journey,
parting eyes turn toward eternity,
entering infinity across strange forests,
wearing white anguish beyond dark towers.

Parting soft breath opining our love,
touching vast fields beyond our grief,
reaching distant streets above our arms,
stretching back to wait for me you dream.



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Roger Luebeck